Prelude to Madness
by kasviel
Summary: This details Siegfried's early life, since he was a baby until he comitted his first murder. Two chapters only, but well-written. Please r & r ^_^
1. Default Chapter

Author's NotesThis is a short, two-chapter story I just typed up today ^^ Why? There are basically no Soul Calibur fics on ffnet!!! Besides, it's a tribute to my darling Siegfried, who started me on fan fiction in the first place (the old Soul Blade fics I wrote are really bad and lost to time >  


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**Act One**  
  
_This is the beginning...and this is the end. Who knows what drives the soul to where it eventually ends up...and do we even want to know? Time comes and goes, and souls collide...sometimes unexpectedly and sometimes tragically. So many traveling souls...holding hands, shaking hands, changing hands. Sometimes we meet to kill, sometimes we meet to love...sometimes we meet senselessly. I used to think it all depended on circumstance and chance, with a bit of fate as well. But now I know better. We control our destiny. We choose either salvation or sin....and we choose our punishment as well. Our soul. At the beginning and at the end, it is our soul that will ultimately save us...or set us on the path to damnation._   
  
Once many years ago, there was a small town in the mountains of Germany. Overlooking it was a cliff and acres of black forests. It was a humble place...from which was born the most bold of legends. It began here on this beautiful, cold day in February...in the simplest and most joyous of ways...   
  
For a baby's cry broke the still morning. Birds flew from the roof of a small house, scattering snow as they took to the sky. Inside, a man could be seen jumping to his feet. An older woman walked into the hall, wiping sweat from her brow. She nodded to the man and he raced into the other room.   
  
In a small, cozy bedroom lay a woman on a large bed. She had golden hair that lay limp around her face, which was beautiful but tired. She looked up and smiled at the dark-haired man that had entered. In her arms was cradled a tiny bundle. The man raced to her bedside.   
  
"A son," the words escaped her luminous smile. "Frederick, you have a son! We have a son!"   
  
The man stared in wonder at the small, writhing child. It was crying and fussing, but looked up at Frederick for a moment. Its greenish blue eyes seemed to take in the details of the man's face before it began to holler again. Frederick took the bundle into his arms and stared in amazement. A soft smile lit his face.   
  
"A fine spirit he has," he laughed, "listen to his voice!"   
  
"It's the voice of a hero," the woman said exuberantly, "just like his father's!"   
  
"You will be a fine man one day...." Frederick said gently to the baby. He held him up a little. "You will be a great hero...Siegfried!"   
  
The woman laughed. "Siegfried? A perfect name...for a perfect son!"   
  
"So it is then," Frederick said, beaming at the squirming child in his arms. "Siegfried!"   
  
_To think that that one moment would ruin so many countless lives...if I could, I would omit my own birth from the pages of time. So happy...it began so happily...and ended with such tragedy. Why? Why? Why did it have to happen? Why did I have to be born?! Damn it! He couldn't have known...that he was looking into the face of his killer!_   
  
Winter came and went, then spring, then summer, autumn, and finally winter again. The years came and went peacefully, five of them, to be exact. One snowy day in December, Sir Frederick was outside the small house. There was a wagon with several soldiers waiting on it. He had a bag slung over one shoulder, and knights' armor on. Standing in the doorway was the woman, beautiful Margaret. She was holding a handkercheif beneath her red eyes. Frederick took one last, regretful gaze at her.   
  
Just then, a little boy came running outside the house, trodding over the deep snow. He was blond and fair, like his mother, and his face was equally beautiful. He ran straight up to Frederick and threw his small arms around the man's legs. Frederick's face melted into a deep sorrow.   
  
"Don't go!" the boy cried. "Don't go, father! You can't leave me here!"   
  
It took all Frederick's strength to hold his brave expression. Margaret turned her face, sobbing softly in the doorway. The knight knelt before his small son.   
  
"Siegfried, I must," he said quietly. "I must go. I explained to you why already."   
  
Siegfried sniffled and wiped his eyes with one chubby hand. He nodded tearfully.   
  
"Then-than take me with you!" he pleaded.   
  
"It is too dangerous, child," Frederick told him. "I would rather die than risk my son's life. Besides, you're the man of the house now. I'm leaving it up to you to take care of your mother."   
  
"But-but why?" Siegfried asked, bewildered. "Why must you go? Why must you leave me?"   
  
"Siegfried, I'm sorry," Frederick said, obviously pained. "I must go to war. I need to protect our people." He hugged the boy briefly. "Take good care of your mother, Siegfried."   
  
"Y-yes..."   
  
Frederick tousled the boy's hair and went to get on the wagon. They pulled away. Siegfried ran to the roadside and watched until they were out of sight. A cold wind whipped his blond hair across his childish face.   
  
_I suppose I didn't understand why "our people" were so much more important than me. Why did he have to leave to defend "our people" when I needed him so much myself? Were these "our people" more important than I was? What if he died, what then? Would the risk have been worth it? I didn't understand at the time, I suppose I was too young. Maybe I never understood..._   
  
The years passed quickly, as they tended to do. The small house where Siegfried had been born became a bit more worn. It was summer, and the lawn was unkept and wild. There were patches on the roof beginning to give in. Even outside could be heard the sound of yelling.   
  
"Siegfried, you have to do something!" Margaret was yelling. "If you don't want to work, at least help with the house! I'm doing my best, but there are some things that only a man can do!"   
  
In the dining room, Siegfried was sitting sullenly on a chair. His chubby cheeks and hands were gone. He was a young man now, nearing thirteen. His face was thinner and he was turning into a very handsome boy. However, there was anger in his greenish eyes.   
  
"I'm not a man yet!" he yelled, standing up now.   
  
"Siegfried, I understand, but you must help me!" Margaret said pleadingly. Her beauty was nearly overshadowed by her weary face. Her golden hair was disheveled and her face was looking older with worry and strain. "I've been working every day for the past eight years! I'm not asking you to be a substitue for your father, all I'm asking for is a little help now and then!"   
  
"It isn't my fault you've been working so hard!" Siegfried told her. "Why should I pay for it?"   
  
"You're not busy with school, Siegfried," Margaret said. "I've seen your grades, I've spoken with the schoolmaster. You aren't doing anything there!"   
  
"So now you want me to leave school, do you?" Siegfried asked angrily. "Stay home and act as a husband, work all day and fix the house at night? No! I won't do it! I'm not the one who left you, so don't take it out on me! It isn't my fault he had a child on one of his campaigns and then thought it wasn't important enough to stay for! I wasn't the one who used you and left without so much as a look back!"   
  
**_Smack!_**   
  
Before he could say anything more, Margaret brought her hand across the boy's face.   
  
"Don't you ever, **ever** speak that way about your father again!" she scolded harshly. "He did not use me, how dare you say such things! Your father is a kind, loving man! It isn't your fault he left, but it isn't his fault either! He has a country to defend!"   
  
Siegfried's shoulders were heaving. His jaw tightened and he turned his face to his mother.   
  
"And was that more important than me?!" he asked furiously. "Was it?! A country of strangers was more important than his own son? They matter more than me? More than his son?!"   
  
"He loved you!" Margaret said, taking her son by the shoulders, "that's why he left! He wanted this country to be safe for you when you're older! He wanted you to grow up in freedom, not oppression. And that was the only reason he left."   
  
"It wasn't his choice to make!" Siegfried said, tears streaming down his face. "Why didn't he ask me? I would rather grow up with a father in oppression than grow up in freedom as half an orphan! Why didn't he ask me first?!"   
  
He began to cry, and his mother embraced him.   
  
"Because this is the best way, Siegfried," she said softly. "Shh. Don't cry. Your father loves you, and he is fighting for your future as we speak. He will return victorious one day, he promised us that, remember? Be patient, child...please...trust him."   
  
_I wanted to trust him, but there were more important issues than that at hand. It was hard to believe my father had done the right thing while we were nearly starving and poor. My mother worked all day trying to feed us, but it was still hard. There were no jobs for women or children in our town. I argued about it, but deep down I knew I would have to take a stand and be a man soon. I had to take care of my mother and myself...but how? The only thing I truly loved and was good at was sword fighting. My father had taught me a little when I was a toddler, and after that I'd taken it up on my own. I was nearing thirteen then, and I was already quick on my feet and good with a fair-sized sword. As the son of a great hero, the local kids expected me to be good in a fight, and demanded proof of such skills. I proved it to them, despite the trouble at school I was constantly in. The schoolmaster spent half his time beating me and the other half worrying that I may hurt him one of these days. Ha, ha! I don't feel too good about it, but that is one aspect of my life I'm not ashamed of...although it did lead me to the first step into my soon to come downward spiral._   
  
"**Siegfried Schtauffen**!"   
  
The moment young Siegfried stepped inside the classroom, it became abuzz with murmurs. Siegfried stood grinning at them, nodding to a couple of his friends. The schoolmaster, a tall, stern man named Von Hausen, was livid. He was a strong, fairly handsome man, rather young for a schoolmaster at twenty-eight. His blue eyes lit with fury as the blond boy stepped inside the classroom, and he fingered his cane (which was not used for walking).   
  
"Nearly noon, Mr. Schtauffen!" Von Hausen declared, pointing to the clock. "Do you realize that it is nearly time for lunch?"   
  
"Yeah, I know I'm a bit late," was all Siegfried said. "Will that be a problem?"   
  
"Of course it's a problem!" Von Hausen exclaimed, walking up to the boy. "Do you think that you can simply stroll in here at whatever time you like?"   
  
Siegfried shrugged. "If I feel like it, yes."   
  
"**What**?!" Von Hausen was aghast. "Well, I admit that you _can_ in theory, but not without accepting the consquences!"   
  
The schoolmaster grabbed the boy by the arm and pulled him over one knee. Siegfried was freakishly calm as his teacher lifted the cane and struck it down across his bottom. In the fron row of the class, a pale boy with eyes so light blue they were nearly white jumped and flinched at the resounding whack. He bit his lip as Siegfried was struck several more times. In the back of the class, a tall boy with rust-colored hair was watching the beating with a thoughtful look in his brown eyes. More murmurs traveled the room.   
  
Von Hausen put the boy down after several hard, well-placed blows. Looking triumphant, he looked at the boy's face. His look of triumph fell. Siegfried was neither teary-eyed nor upset. In fact, the boy was smirking. Von Hausen met his eyes. The boy's green eyes were cold and dancing with a controlled malice. The schoolmaster turned his gaze from the child and sat down at his desk.   
  
"Take your seat," he muttered to Siegfried, trying to hide his fear of the child.   
  
"Heh."   
  
The boy ran a hand through his fallen blond hair and turned to the class. Ignoring the looks he was getting (some of awe, some of fear, and a few of satisfaction), he went to his seat in the back of the room. He sat next to the tall boy with rust-colored hair, squirming a bit as he hit the chair. The room fell silent.   
  
"That was...admirable," the redhead whispered to Siegfried. "It hurt?"   
  
"Of course it hurt," Sieg replied. "A more appropriate question would be, am I able to take it?"   
  
"Well, are you able to take it?"   
  
"Yes," Sieg said with a smile. "I'm very good at taking pain. Haven't you seen any of my fights?"   
  
"No, I don't usually go to school."   
  
"Then why are you here?"   
  
"My father's back in town this week," the redhead replied. "I'd rather go to school than put up with him. I usually hang at the tavern, but me old man's there in the day now."   
  
"You hang out at the tavern?" Siegfried asked with wide eyes. "How old are you?"   
  
"Fourteen."   
  
"Wow."   
  
"You could too, you know," the boy told Siegfried. "All you need is a contact, someone to hang with so you won't get in trouble with the older blokes. Tell you what. My pop's home tonight. Why don't you meet me at the tavern around after dinner time? I'll show you what it's like."   
  
"You'd do that?"   
  
"Yeah. If you can handle it, that is," the boy said. "Those were a few hard strokes you took, but it doesn't prove all that much. You do seem a bit short and scrawny. How old are you? Elevan?"   
  
"Twelve, going on thirteen," Siegfried defended himself. "And don't you worry about what I can handle. I'll meet you there, and we'll see what I can handle."   
  
"I like your attitude, boy," the redhead said in amusement. "You'll get far..."   
  
_I didn't know what he meant by "get far" at the time. Get far in what? But I didn't care, I was too excited. I was the only boy at home, I wanted so desperately to be a man. For some reason, I thought getting into the local tavern would be the first step to manhood. I couldn't have known it would be the first step to insanity..._   
  
  
  
**End of Part One**


	2. Chapter Two

Author's NotesFinal chapter ^^ Yes, that's it! Seriously, if you like it, please review it and tell me! I would like to continue it. Oh, but I warn you, if I continue it it may get yaoi ^_- Sound good to you? There is basically no yaoi with Siegfriend involved on the net....at least, not any that I've found. Help me out, Siegfriend-yaoi fans! Drop me a line or swing by my Mailing List at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/slash_and_yaoi_inc/   


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**Act Two**  
  
_It was cold that night, cold and starless. I still remember it as if it were yesterday...how black the sky was...how I couldn't stop my body from shaking. I don't know whether I was shaking from cold or fear...or both. But I forced myself to be strong. I forced myself to be brave. Stupid, really...but I didn't know any better._   
  
Siegfried met up with the redhead boy outside the tavern. He put on his confident smirk.   
  
"So, you showed, eh Schtauffen?" the boy said. He held out his hand. "The name's Ross, Ross Anderson. And you are little Siegfried Schtauffen...the son of the hero."   
  
"I am Siegfried Schtauffen, and that is all."   
  
Ross smirked. "Well then, come on in, Siegfried Schtauffen is all."   
  
Siegfried stepped inside the small tavern. There was a warm, golden light inside. However, it was anything but home-like. On a stage, a beautiful woman was dancing vigorously, half-dressed and wild. Men were drinking and talking and laughing rough laughter. More women were serving the men more drinks, some being grabbed by the men and sitting in their laps. Music was playing from somewhere. It was loud and corrupt. Siegfried stared.   
  
_No, that I didn't know any better is just a poor excuse. I knew better. The corruption was thick in the air, so thick that I tasted it the moment I walked in. I knew this was wrong, I knew this would lead to trouble...but I didn't care. I let myself go in. I let myself be engulfed by this sick, depraved world..._   
  
Ross showed Siegfried to a table. There were several men sitting around. Their ages ranged from teen-agers to young adults. They looked at Siegfried with skepticism, then looked at Ross questioningly. Ross grinned.   
  
"Hello boys," he greeted them. "Business going well?"   
  
"Good, but a little tough," replied a strapping young man. "Who's the shrimp?"   
  
"Who're you calling a shrimp?!" Siegfried asked angrily, jumping to his feet.   
  
Ross laughed and motioned for him to sit down.   
  
"This is Siegried Schtauffen," he told the group of men. "He's a tough kid, surprisingly."   
  
"The son of Frederick?" asked an older man. "The hero?"   
  
"A hero's son?!"   
  
Siegfried stood again.   
  
"Listen here!" he said angrily. "I'm not anyone's son, I'm not some weak little kid, I'm Siegfried Schtauffen! And Ross invited me here, for one reason or the other. So why don't you figure it out for yourselves!"   
  
"Hey now, that's no way to speak, brat!" said the strapping man. He stood up. "I'll teach you some respect!"   
  
He reached for Siegfried, but Sieg avoided. In a quick flash, he'd drawn a knife and pointed it at the older man's chest. His green eyes were dangerous and hard. The strong man stared down at him.   
  
"You'll teach me nothing," Siegfried hissed. "If I wanted to be taught, I'd go back to school."   
  
The men and Ross all stared at him. Then, they began to laugh. The strong man patted him on the back and sat down, though surprise still lingered on his face.   
  
"Hey now, I was only testing ya," he said. "You really are a tough kid."   
  
"Damn straight." Siegfried sat down, slowly putting his dagger back in his boot.   
  
"Ross, you have done it again," said a thin teen. "Your talent for finding talent is unmatched."   
  
"So, who are you guys?" Siegfried asked.   
  
"You already met me, Ross," said the redhead. He pointed to the strapping man. "That's Demitri, our leader." He pointed to the older man. "And he's Aron, our second-in-command." He motioned towards the thin teen. "And that's Sasha, our strategist. If he talks funny, it's because he's from Russia."   
  
Siegfried nodded at them.   
  
"All together, we are the Night Wind," Ross said.   
  
"The who?"   
  
Their faces fell.   
  
"Haven't you heard of us?!" Ross asked, partially angry. "We rob everyone by night, and vanish in the day! We're bandits!"   
  
"Oh! No, I never heard of you."   
  
Ross sighed, bowing his head in despair.   
  
"Well, one day everyone will know our name," he said quietly. He lifted his glass and handed on to Siegfried. "And you're one of us now! So, to the Night Wind!"   
  
"To the Night Wind!"   
  
_It was the perfect solution...or so I thought. This would get me much more money than any local job, and I could annoy the schoolmaster by day and make money by night. I don't know why annoying the schoolmaster appealed to me so much that it was one of my highest priorities...perhaps I enjoyed seeing how far I could make his temper stretch. Anyway...now I had a job._   
  
The night melted away into laughter and excited talking.   
  
_I took to stealing like a bird takes to flying. I was free, I was good at it. In time, it became second nature to me. The shivering of my body as we entered the darkness of the night....the coldness of the air on my skin....the sounds of screaming beneath my blade...it's frightening how much I loved it. I told my mother I'd gotten a night job at the harbor. She believed me at first, but I think her faith in me waned when I kept coming home bloody, and those nights coincided with robberies reported in the newspaper. I kept lying to her, for I was too wrapped up in the thrill of my 'job' to care. Besides, the Night Wind was earning a substantial amount of money...although I didn't think it was enough. Yes, stealing was truly my calling. I don't know why fate would be so cruel as to let me love it so much, but I did. For a while, it was all fun and games. I was oblivious to the fact that the next step...was murder..._   
  
A cold night in March came. The Night Wind was stationed outside a manor, among them the thirteen-year-old Siegfried. His beautiful face was intent, his green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Beside him was Ross.   
  
"So, what's the plan?" asked the redhead.   
  
"There's only three guards on the inside," said Sasha in his accent. "We can take them, no?"   
  
"Of course!" Siegfried said, fingering his Zweihander.   
  
"No problem," smiled Ross, holding up his Claymore.   
  
"If we can pull this off, boys, we'll be famous," Demitri said. "Famous and _rich_! Ha, ha!"   
  
"Right!" Siegfried said excitedly. "So let's go!"   
  
They all stood. Being as quiet as possible, they approached the mansion. Aron and Demitri went in through the back door, which they unlocked. Ross and Siegfried carefully broke in through the windows. Sasha stayed outside, ready to alert them of any danger.   
  
_My whole body was shaking, and I couldn't stop it. There was something wrong about the whole mission, I could feel it. But it would be foolish to tell them about it. It was do or die...so I did it._   
  
As they sneaked through the mansion, Ross and Siegfried took two of the three guards by catching them off guard.   
  
_Until tonight, Ross had always protected me. He didn't say so, but I knew he did. Even as we took the two guards...he didn't let me kill them. I'd knock them unconscious, but he was the one to actually decapitate or impale them. He was an elegant fighter, Ross. His cinammon hair would gleam even in the darkest light, and he'd wield his thin sword with grace and speed. I was still a little clumsy and getting used to Faust (the name I gave my Zweihander). Strangely, it never bothered me that Ross was only fourteen and already a murderer._   
  
Now the boys came to the foyer of the mansion. They met with Demitri.   
  
"Where's Aron?" asked Ross.   
  
"I don't know, I lost him some ways back," Demitri said worriedly. "This mansion...is it only me, or is something strange?"   
  
"Strange?" asked Ross. "No, everything is fine. Aron probably got lost looking for treasure, you know how he is. Come on, let's start grabbing stuff and get going!"   
  
"Yeah," agreed Demitri, "but before we leave, we find Aron!"   
  
Just then, another voice spoke. It was rich and smooth, and it came from above.   
  
"I trust you'll be finding him a bit sooner than that."   
  
The bandits all turned to the staircase. A man in nobles' clothes was looking down at them. In one hand was a sword that seemed to be dripping blood. In the other hand was an object that could not be seen too well. He flung the second object. It rolled down the stairs with a sickening series of thumps, and landed at Siegfried's feet. The boy's face paled.   
  
_I'll never forget that moment...not as long as I live. Aron's pale, jagged face was staring up at me. His eyes, that pale shade of blue, looked at me blankly...like a hideous doll. His silvery hair gleamed with blood in the light of that ugly, pale moon. I wanted to scream, but I didn't. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I could only stare..._   
  
The handsome, wealthy man began coming down the stairs, his shoes thumping lightly on the rug. Demitri's face twisted in fury. Ross gripped his sword. Siegfried forced his gaze away from the head, and looked at the man.   
  
"I trust that you know who I am by now," said the man. "I rule this worthless town by decree of the Holy Roman Empire. I am Lord General Valentine...the wielder of the Sword of Divine Salvation."   
  
"You...you bastard!"   
  
Demitri ran at Valentine, only to be repelled by a flash of white light. He stumbled back, eyes wide in surprise. After a moment, blood spurted from his mouth and he collapsed. Ross ran to him.   
  
"Demitri? Demitri!" he shook him. "...He's...he's dead..."   
  
Valentine laughed a cold laugh.   
  
"Now children...I believe it is your turn to die," he said coldly. He turned to Ross. "I'll kill you first, then I'll deal with the pretty one on my own..."   
  
Valentine was quick, but Ross was quicker. As the blade flashed, Ross seemed to teleport out of its reach. However, the very ends of his red hair were cut off and fell through the air. Siegfried could see the terror in his friend's eyes. He gripped the handle of his sword. Valentine swiped at Ross, who dodged again. This time, it was a closer miss. The front of Ross' tunic was slashed, along with his chest. He winced.   
  
_I don't know what went through my mind...perhaps nothing did. I know I felt a rage beyond anything I'd felt before. This man had killed two of my friends, and now he was slowly going to kill Ross. I didn't think about myself, I was too angry and frightened for my friend. I couldn't let the Night Wind end this way._   
  
Siegfried let out a cry and swung his sword at Valentine. The man dodged, but his arm was hit by the edge of the blade. He faced Siegfried with a dangerously vengeful look. Ross' eyes widened.   
  
"Don't do it, Sieg!" he yelled. "Run, save yourself! For Gods' sake, you're just a child!"   
  
But Siegfried faced the man. They began to circle each other like sharks.   
  
_I kept repeating the same words over and over in my mind..."I'm not going to die here." I didn't care who he was or who I was...I just wanted to end this. Then, our eyes met. I don't know what he saw in mine, but that was when I knew he was going to make his move. Before he swung, I sidestepped. As he was regaining himself from the miss, I swung my sword up, in a clean line. His head hit the floor before he'd turned around...and his body followed a moment later._   
  
Ross gaped up at Siegfried as Valentine was decapitated. Siegfried's face was hard. He helped his friend to his feet. Although he towered over the short, skinny thirteen-year-old, Ross looked a little afraid of the younger boy. Then, they both lookd at their slain superiors, Aron and Demitri.   
  
"Damn it...**damn it**!" Ross swore in anguish. "Demitri...**damn**..."   
  
"There's no time to mourn," Siegfried said, taking charge suddenly. "Let's get as many things as we can, quick!"   
  
"How can you think of money at a time like this?" Ross asked in horror.   
  
"We're bandits!" Siegfried retorted. "Demitri and Aron would hate knowing that their deaths ruined our mission! So come on, we'll rob this place clean and then leave our sign!"   
  
"What sign?" asked Ross. "Siegfried, the Night Wind is finished! We have no leaders!"   
  
"The Night Wind is finished...but..."   
  
Siegfried knelt beside Valentine's body. As Ross' eyes widened even more in horror, the boy dipped his hand into the oozing, warm blood. He began writing huge letters on the floor. Ross saw that they messily spelled out, "Schwarz Wind."   
  
"The Night Wind is dead," Siegfried said quietly, "but the Schwarz Wind has been born of its ashes. And I will lead it from here on." He turned to Ross. "Are you with me?"   
  
"...I...I'm with you, kid. All the way."   
  
_Little did I know that the words I spelled out in blood that night would later describe my entire life. It was as if the murders were my tribute to Satan, and now I'd signed my name to his service. That was the beginning...and that was the end. My life would never be the same again...and my innocence was lost forever.   
  
Souls change hands as the clock changes hours. No one knows why we meet or don't meet or go on. My father was a boy that became a man that became a soldier, and he then became a hero. I was a boy who became a thief that became a murderer, and then I would become a nightmare. I never grew up, I'm less than a man. Less than a man...yet more than a child. Fate is not an excuse. I chose my fate...and I chose my punishement....all in that one night...beneath that white moon...I became a Nightmare then._   
  
**End of Part Two**


End file.
